The Distant Legend
The mud of the northern ridge was thick enough to swallow a man whole, and it was doing its best with me. I lay pinned against the frozen earth, the blood from the gash in my shoulder mixing with the slush until it ran in dark rivulets down my chest. My hand clutched the iron compass, the cold metal biting into my palm, its needle spinning in a frantic, hypnotic blur. I had lied. I had told the...
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